


it's burgundy! not red!

by sterekfluffer (teampancakes)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Pining, Pining Derek, Sweaters, acronyms are super cool, derek wears sweaters, nerd!derek, stiles makes lots of plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teampancakes/pseuds/sterekfluffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Derek were to calculate the percentage of Stiles' conversations which featured Lydia Martin it would probably amount to nearly 75%. Not that he'd actually calculated it, because that would mean giving Lydia and her "gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair," "perfect nails," and "flawless smile" a definite, concrete fraction of Stiles' attention. Which, subsequently, would force him to admit that Stiles was probably never going to stray away from his unachievable crush long enough to notice that Derek was kinda, maybe, hopelessly in love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's burgundy! not red!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matildajones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/gifts).



> This is my birthday present to the lovely lovely matildajones! <3 A huge thank you to Kuri for reading it over and to Lena for telling me that people don't refrigerate Nutella in America xD

If Derek were to calculate the percentage of Stiles' conversations which featured Lydia Martin it would probably amount to nearly 75%. Not that he'd actually calculated it, because that would mean giving Lydia and her "gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair," "perfect nails," and "flawless smile" a definite, concrete fraction of Stiles' attention. Which, subsequently, would force him to admit that Stiles was probably never going to stray away from his unachievable crush long enough to notice that Derek was kinda, maybe, hopelessly in love with him.

But Stiles was determined and he was persistent. He also really loved acronyms and planning ways to get Lydia to notice him. He would use office supplies, construction paper, binders, folders, graphs and diagrams, timelines, post-its in a myriad of colours and to mark where everything was: colorful sticky tabs. Each plan got its own acronym, written in careful red pen over each loose leaf sheet of paper the plan in question spanned, which were strewn all over his bedroom floor and desk.

There had been JOY (or Just One Yogurt) in third grade, where Stiles had bought several tubs of the cherry flavoured yogurt that Lydia loved from the cafeteria each week and then given them all to her on Valentine’s Day. She’d smiled at Stiles politely, taken one tub for herself and distributed the rest in her Home Ec. Class. Derek only knew that because his friend, Erica, had arrived at the Spanish class they had together, half-finished tub still in hand. Stiles, on the other hand, probably never found out what happened to those yogurts.

In fifth grade, it was INK (I Need Kisses) that involved two packets of Hershey’s Kisses and doctoring them so the little paper strips were mini love-letters to Lydia. Stiles had announced that plan when they were playing Call of Duty in Derek’s room. Derek may or may not have blushed at the “I need kisses, Derek!” part of the very sudden conversation.

In seventh grade it was HON (Honey on Nutella) where Stiles volunteered to bring something for the bake sale that Lydia was spearheading and ended up making nearly three hundred sandwiches filled with honey and Nutella. They’d made them in the Hale’s kitchen because it was much bigger and also because they had more Nutella. Even so, around the 228 sandwich mark, Derek had had to run out to the nearest store for another jar. By the time they were done and there was a small mountain of sandwiches lying on the counter, Stiles’ hands were messy and striped with chocolate and all Derek really wanted to do was kiss that blob of peanut butter off his chin and reach out to wrap a hand around his waist and pull him in.

And now, finally, in tenth grade, it’s LOVE-B or Lydia’s One Very Exciting Birthday.

“Lydia Martin is the best thing on the planet, okay? And you can never convince me otherwise,” Stiles mutters around the hairpin in his mouth. Derek pushes his glasses up his nose and sighs very loudly. He’s supposed to be guarding the corridors to tell Stiles if they’re about to be discovered but it’s nearly 2 pm and no one’s around anyway, so he’s just leaning against the lockers.

“Okay, whose plan was it to break into her locker using just two hairpins? Because this is so _not_ working, damnit,” Stiles swears under his breath as he jiggles the first pin in the lock uselessly.

“It was your plan, actually,” Derek says in his quiet, apologetic voice and stills Stiles’ hand with his own. Taking the pin from Stiles, he moves in front of the locker, and gently wiggles it into the lock.

“It’s a very – delicate art,” he murmurs, flicking his wrist up and down a few times and then grinning at Stiles’ face when the locker pops open with a small screech.

“Dude,” Stiles says, almost reverently, maybe forgetting Lydia for just a second, “You’re kinda awesome.”

Derek smiles to himself and leans back against the locker on the right, folding his arms as he watches Stiles stuff Lydia’s locker with candy hearts, a mix tape and the huge card that Derek had actually helped him make. So what if Derek actually wishes that Stiles was giving _him_ candy and love letters?  He’ll take them in any form he can get them and if that meant sitting on Stiles’ bedroom floor, glitter all over the place -- including on Stiles’ bottom lip – well, he’ll take that too.

*

“So that didn’t exactly work,” Stiles sighs as he flops onto his bed, face down. Derek makes a small sympathetic noise and flings his school bag onto the desk, next to Stiles’.

“ _And_ we have a lot of homework and my legs are killing me because Coach made us do like a hundred laps and I can’t believe I’m still stuck with that asshole Harris as my Chemistry partner. Today sucks.” Stiles voice is muffled because of the sheets but Derek knows what he’s saying anyway.

“Mhm,” he agrees, unzipping his bag and taking out his folders and journals. They _do_ actually have a lot of homework and if they get started right away, they might be able to finish it before his mom and the Sheriff arrive from the station.

“How was I supposed to know she’d changed lockers recently? Ughh,” Stiles fists his hands in the sheets and pushes himself up to look at Derek. Derek’s already started math because math is super easy and it means that when he’s done, he can go back to being distracted by Stiles’ moles or his mouth or his long, gangly legs sprawled out over the bed.

“Well, you made Danny’s day,” Derek hums as he scratches off the numbers and tries again. The problems are sort of tricky.

Stiles is bad at math. Maybe he’ll ask Derek to help him.

“But Danny is going out with _Ethan_ ,” Stiles whines. “Ethan is probably gonna kill me tomorrow.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it. Besides, the card _was_ addressed to Lydia,” Derek grins, turning to face Stiles, the set of problems finally defeated.

“Did you finish Math already?” Stiles asks suspiciously, getting up and coming over to the desk. “Dude, you’re done with like, half the work and I haven’t even started!”

“It’s okay, I’ll wait for you,” Derek tells him quietly as Stiles unzips his own bag and takes out his homework. _I’ll wait for you forever,_ Derek thinks to himself as rests his chin on his hands and watches Stiles frown and swear at his homework.

*

“Hey.” Allison smiles as she drops down next to them on the bleachers. Derek and Stiles stare at her. Allison is Lydia’s friend and she’s never spoken to them before but now she’s sitting a feet away, holding a book and her backpack in her hands.

“Um, hi,” Stiles ventures. Derek doesn’t say anything because he has a weird, sick feeling in his stomach and he can’t be trusted to open his mouth right now. So he simply nods in her direction.

“So, Lydia really liked the mix tape you made her,” Allison continues brightly. Derek’s heart sinks and he swallows and glances at Stiles. Stiles’ expressions are changing like seasons – disbelief, shock, awed acceptance of the fact and ecstatic joy.  He’d decided that even though the whole LOVE-B thing didn’t work out, he still had the music from her mixtape so he’d burned another CD and given it to her.

“Ohmygod,” Stiles whispers under his breath. “Ohmygod,” he repeats.

“She says maybe you can come to her birthday party this weekend,” Allison reaches into her bag, hands him an invitation and then passes another to Derek, her expression kind. Derek doesn’t even look at it.

“Oh god, yes, we’ll definitely be there,” Stiles breathes, turning the pale cream card over and over in his hands. He glances out to the field where Lydia’s walking around, lining up the cheerleaders, but she isn’t looking his way.

“Great! See you there!” Allison gives them one last, dimpled smile before getting up and walking off, back towards the cheerleaders.

“Whoa,” Stiles turns to Derek with huge eyes. “Do you _know_ how big this party is? It’s _the_ party of the year and she’s never invited me before! Oh my god!”

“Uh huh,” Derek agrees, tucking his card into his book and placing his book back in his bag. He’s not disappointed or sad -- he’s not.

Okay, maybe he is, just a little bit. A part of him wonders if Stiles will ever see how much Derek likes him or if he’ll spend the rest of his life following Lydia Martin around.

When Stiles begins to talk about how he thinks his ultimate plan (the Wedding Only Option, or WOO, for short) is finally starting to work, Derek zones out and stares at Stiles’ mouth instead. Maybe all they need is a little more time.

*

“Do I look okay?” Stiles tugs at the collar of his shirt and looks at himself in the mirror critically. They’re in Stiles’ bedroom and it’s nearly 8 pm. At first, Derek didn’t want to go. He wouldn’t know anyone there except for Stiles and Stiles would be too busy trying to flirt with Lydia to notice him and he didn’t want to be not noticed.  Not anymore.

But Stiles used his puppy eyes and Derek just couldn’t refuse when faced with such a heart-wrenching sight, so he sighed and said he’d go. Since Stiles’ house was closer to Lydia’s than Derek’s was, Derek’s mother had dropped him off at Stiles’ and they had planned to go to Lydia’s in the jeep. Derek was trying very hard not to think about how this was almost like a date.

“Uh.” Derek stares at him and swallows. Stiles is looking at him expectantly, lips slightly parted and hands tucked into the pockets of his skinny jeans.  He’s left the first button on his shirt undone so Derek can see the sharp lines of his collar bones and a small expanse of pale, mole dotted skin.

“You look – amazing,” Derek finally says and is extremely glad when his voice doesn’t break or waver. Stiles grins in delight and takes his hands out of his pockets to tug at his cuffs.

“Well, you look quite dashing yourself, Der,” he says, winking, making Derek’s skin tingle pleasantly and his face grow slightly hot. _Stiles is flirty by nature_ , he tells himself. _Stiles is flirty by nature, this doesn’t mean anything._

But then Stiles rushes ahead to open the door of the jeep for him and waits until he’s seated to go around the other side to slide into the driving seat. And Stiles smiles at him almost like he smiles at Lydia and Derek feels his heart expand in his chest as he sneaks glances at him the entire drive over.

*

It all comes crashing down at the party. As soon as they arrive, Stiles walks off hugging the huge gift box that Derek suspects he’ll have a hard time getting through the doorways. Derek wasn’t expecting anything less but it still crushes him to be left alone on the porch with a bunch of people he doesn’t know. Stiles disappeared after giving Derek a small pat on the back and an excited, “I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Need to find Lydia.” So Derek had nodded and now he’s still standing on the porch, leaning against the house, his solo cup slipping slightly every now and then as his hands sweat.

**[To Stiles 11.15 pm] Where are you? I think we should head home.**

He waits two minutes, then five. Ten minutes later, his phone still hasn’t lit up with a text and Derek’s kind of pissed. He’s wasted two hours of his evening, leaning against a brick wall and drinking till he feels like his insides are only made of punch.

“Hey,” comes Stiles voice suddenly and Derek turns to see him give him a sloppy grin. Instantly he puts his solo cup down and catches Stiles around the waist just as he’s about to fall over his feet. Stiles is heavier than Derek imagined and he stinks of beer.

“Lydia didn’t even open my present,” Stiles slurs, laughing. “She opened everyone’s but mine.”

Derek doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say anyway. So he just lugs Stiles around the side of the house onto the porch swing where it is considerably less crowded.

“I have a headache,” Stiles moans, clutching at his head. “Oh god, Derek.”

“Stay here. I’ll get you some water,” Derek says more roughly than he means to. He feels sorry a second later but he can’t take it back so he leaves.

Stiles is curled up against the side of the swing when he returns. He takes the water without a word and gulps it all down, handing the glass back to Derek without looking at him. Derek puts it down on the window sill nearby and bites his lip.

“Where are your keys?” he asks, softer this time. “You’re in no state to drive.”

“Here,” Stiles replies quietly, taking them out of his pocket. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Derek says after a moment’s hesitation. If Stiles picks up on it, he doesn’t say anything.

*

“You’re mad at me, I know it,” Stiles says on the Monday after the party.  It’s the first time they’ve gone an entire weekend without speaking, or meeting up for a game of Call of Duty or just for some pizza and homework.

“I’m not,” Derek says, flipping over a page of the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the bleachers outside again, watching the cheerleaders practice. Derek thinks it’s kind of creepy actually but Stiles always wants to spend every waking moment possible somewhere in the vicinity of Lydia Martin.

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?” Stiles asks, putting his hand on Derek’s knee and shaking it a little to make him look up from his book. Derek stops mid-word but doesn’t look up.

“I don’t have anything to say,” he says finally. Stiles makes a little sound that Derek doesn’t understand and stops shaking his knee but doesn’t remove his hand. Derek swallows and goes back to reading. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Stiles turn his head back towards the cheerleaders. His small sigh leaves a bitter taste in Derek’s mouth.

*

They fall back into their routine and don’t talk about that night again. Derek goes over to Stiles’ after school and his mom and Stiles’ dad come home from the station at seven and then his mom takes Derek home. It’s just as it used to be.

Except Stiles has cleared away all of his WOO plans and his bedroom is cleaner than it used to be. It unnerves Derek at first but he slowly gets used to the lack of loose leaf sheets floating around. He doesn’t ask Stiles about what happened to them. He doesn’t want to.

And Stiles doesn’t say anything. So they don’t talk about it.

*

“Just for an hour or two, love, she’s driving us crazy down at the office and your mom’s on patrol,” Derek’s dad says. Derek looks at his baby sister dubiously and pushes his glasses up his nose. “You and Stiles can look after her for a bit till your mom gets home, okay?”

“Sure! I love babies!” Stiles pipes up, holding out his arms for Cora. She giggles and leans in. Stiles takes her and coos. “Hey, Cora, hey.” Derek feels something weird in his gut but ignores it.

“Okay,” Derek finally says. His dad sighs in relief and hands over the baby bag. “You know how everything works, right?” he asks anxiously.

“Yeah, dad, we’ll be fine,” Derek tells him. Stiles is still cooing over Cora in the background.

“Thanks,” Derek’s dad drops a kiss each on his children’s heads and leaves. Derek lugs the bag into the living room, Stiles following him. “We can’t go upstairs or she’s gonna want to follow us,” Derek says. “We’ll have to stay here till Mom gets here.”

“Oh, that’s okay, right, Cora?” Stiles says, bumping noses with her. “If you hold her for a bit I can go and get our stuff from upstairs.”

“She’s not a baby, you can put her down, you know. She walks,” Derek says, sounding slightly disgruntled. Cora starts laughing and then shoves a fist in her mouth.

“Oh, she can walk already! What a smart girl you are, Cora!” Stiles exclaims, setting her down on her feet and giggling as she holds on to his fingers and starts walking. “Oh, she’s so adorable!”

“Mm,” Derek says, looking at Stiles and Cora, the strange feeling in his gut resurfacing even more intensely.

“Okay, I’m going up to get our things okay?” Stiles says, letting go of Cora’s hands so she starts to walk on her own, wobbling only very slightly. “You stay right here with this adorable little girl.”

*

It’s mayhem. That’s the only way Derek can describe it. Cora is destructive but even in their own house, she’s not _this_ destructive. He stares in horror at the jam on the sofa’s armrest, the table knocked over with the flower vase broken and mud everywhere. It looks like Cora has tried to make mud pies using it. Stiles is chasing her, his face red.

“Come here!” he shouts, lunging for her. But she just giggles and slips through his hands. “Oh Derek, thank god you’re here,” Stiles is breathing hard. “Cora is a little nightmare!”

“Um,” Derek is still looking around. Cora’s now climbing the bookshelf. “Don’t do that!” he shouts, rushing towards her, afraid it’s gonna fall on her and crush her.

“Gah!” Cora smiles toothily, letting herself be pried off the second shelf. Derek holds her close and pushes back her hair from her face. She’s sweaty and red from running around so much but she reaches out to tug Derek’s nose.

“Ow!” Derek says as Stiles bends over laughing. “It’s not funny,” Derek tells him in annoyance.

“You look so cute, standing there with a baby in your arms,” he snorts, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Derek freezes, not sure whether Stiles has realized what he’s said. He wonders if he’s just imagining the fond tone or if it’s actually real.

Cora is getting heavier in his arms and he glances down to see her eyes falling closed, her head nestled against his chest. He hoists her a little higher and walks over to the sofa in the next room to put her down. She lies down and gives a little yawn.

“Buh,” she says happily, her little fist closing on one of Derek’s fingers. Derek extricates it slowly as she falls asleep and then tiptoes over to Stiles. “Um, we should clean up?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, looking around at the wreckage. “Dad is gonna kill us.”

“I’m really sorry. I’ll help you,” Derek apologizes, bending over to pick up the TV remote. “If you get me a bag, I can put the pieces of the vase in it.”

“It’s okay. Thanks,” Stiles says, “I’ll be back with a broom and some trash bags.”

*

“I’m so tired,” Stiles says, falling down on the sofa opposite the one Cora is sleeping on. He stretches and yawns.

“Looking after babies is a very hard job,” Derek agrees, sinking down next to him and looking at Cora who is sleeping so peacefully you’d never be able to tell she was running all around the house just an hour ago.

“Mm,” Stiles hums, shifting so that their hips are touching. “How does your mom even do it?” he asks sleepily. Derek shrugs and then freezes as he feels Stiles’ head drop onto his shoulder. A minute later, Stiles starts to snore.

Derek sits there, frozen, not sure what to do. If he moves, Stiles will probably be jolted awake and then it’ll be awkward. If he doesn’t t move – if he doesn’t –

His eyelids are so heavy. He closes them briefly and feels his head tilting till his cheek makes contact with Stiles’ hair. He rests his head like that and sighs.

*

“Derek?”  His mom’s voice wakes him up. He opens his eyes blearily, realizing there’s a heavy weight pressing into his left side and something wet on his neck. It’s not much later that he realizes the heavy weight is Stiles, tucked under his arm for some reason, and that the wet patch is where Stiles’ mouth has fallen open against his neck. He turns red and tries to push Stiles away.

“Stiles, honey.” Derek’s mom shakes Stiles awake. “Time to let go of Derek,” she jokes, “We gotta head home now.” Derek feels himself blush and looks away to hide his face.

“Oh,” Stiles wakes up with a start, realizes where he is and pulls away suddenly, clearing his throat. “Oh, hi, um, Mrs. Hale,” he says, scrubbing at his eyes and getting up. “Sorry I fell asleep. Is Cora okay?” he asks. Derek’s mom smiles and nods at where the Sheriff is sitting with Cora bouncing happily on his knee.

“Oh,” Stiles says again. He smiles and waves at her. She gurgles.

“I’m sorry, but we really should get going now,” Talia Hale tells them, reaching out for her daughter. The Sheriff tweaks Cora’s nose one last time before giving her up to her mom.

“Um, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Derek mutters as he passes Stiles on his way out. Stiles nods but doesn’t meet his eyes.

*

Stiles is making another one of his plans. It’s been two weeks since the sofa incident and it’s been added to the list of things they don’t talk about. Except this time, things aren’t quite normal anymore. They still go over to Stiles’ after school to wait for Talia but now Derek’s taken to working in the kitchen while Stiles does his homework in his bedroom. If Stiles needs a glass of water or something to eat, he’ll sidle in and stand in the middle of the room awkwardly until Derek clears his throat and asks him how his homework is going. Stiles will say “Okay,” to which Derek will also reply, “Okay,” and _then_ Stiles will get whatever he came for and go back up to his room.

Except today he’s brought a folder with him and is the first one to clear his throat. Derek looks up.

“Um, do you mind if I sit here for a bit?” Stiles asks, nodding towards the seat opposite Derek at the table. Derek nods and reaches forward to shift his things and make room for Stiles.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, slipping into the seat and opening up his folder. He bites his lip and moves some papers back and forth. They’re the loose leaf sheets that he used to make his WOO plans on. Derek feels his throat clam up a little and looks back down at his sums. They’re doing a chapter he doesn’t really understand so he’s sort of struggling.

“Um,” Stiles clears his throat again. “I miss you,” he finally blurts out. Derek is so surprised he looks up. Stiles is looking at him with an anxious expression. “I miss my best friend. I miss doing my homework with you and complaining about Harris with you and making fun of Coach with you and – I miss making my plans with you,” he finishes.

The warm feeling that had been tugging at Derek’s heart suddenly disappears and he averts his eyes. He should have known. Everything boils down to his stupid plans.

“I’ve given up on Lydia,” Stiles says, breaking the silence. Derek’s head snaps up again, his eyes wide. He hates the hope that surges through him and tries to push it down as hard as he can, praying and wishing it doesn’t show on his face. “She’s dating Jackson now and he’s a tool and would probably beat me to a pulp if I continued. And she really is kinda out of my league, I can see that now.” Stiles shrugs, his fingers folding down the tabs sticking out from his folder.

Derek wonders what’s in it.

“I, um, I kinda like a guy now,” Stiles murmurs, dropping his eyes to the folder. “He’s adorable and he has the cutest muscles under all his soft red sweaters and he’s just – he’s very pretty,” Stiles finishes, looking up at Derek again with a small smile.

Derek’s heart sinks. For a minute, he had thought Stiles might be actually talking about him. But Derek didn’t have muscles, cute or not. Over her spring break, Laura had kept telling him he was too scrawny. And Derek isn’t adorable. His glasses are old and clunky and his hair never cooperates in the mornings and he likes sweaters a lot but he always gets them in burgundy, never red.

He feels like crying.

“I didn’t know you were bi,” is what he says instead, his voice wavering very, very slightly. He fervently hopes Stiles doesn’t pick up on the tremor.

“I didn’t know either,” Stiles says, brightening up. “But, I mean, I’m okay with it. He’s really cute.” Derek turns his face away because Stiles’ expression is so fond it hurts.

Derek wonders who it is. Danny just broke up with Ethan a week ago. Danny could be called cute. And he has muscles.

“So I threw away WOO and now I have new plans.” Stiles sounds almost shy as he runs a finger along the spine of the plain manila folder in front of him. Derek knows he wants him to be supportive. He’s probably worried Derek will judge him for being bisexual. Or maybe that he won’t want to be friends with him anymore when, really, Derek doesn’t care if he’s bi. In fact, he’s _happy_ because it gives them a chance.

Or at least, it would have if Stiles hadn’t gone and fallen in love with Danny.

Derek can’t do this.

“I’m happy for you,” Derek chokes out. Stiles looks up and he seems faintly disappointed. He opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again, staring down at his new plans.

“Okay,” he says in a small voice, getting up. “Okay,” he repeats, hesitating for a minute before leaving the kitchen. Derek drops his head in his arms and swallows down tears.

*

They avoid each other completely after that conversation. Well, Derek avoids Stiles. He asks his mom if he can come over to the station and wait there for a few days instead of waiting at Stiles’. She looks at him with narrowed eyes and then nods.

“Okay,” she says, wiping her hands on her apron. “You can talk to me about it if you want, you know that right?” she adds after a while.

“Yes. I know,” Derek replies, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His mom smiles at him and shoos him away, telling him it’s still some time until dinner.

*

“We need to talk,” Stiles tells him, cornering him after math class a few days later. Derek avoids his eyes and refuses to focus on how close Stiles is standing to him and how his hand is pressed against the locker door, right next to Derek’s shoulder.

“Um, okay,” Derek says, shifting his books in his arms. He doesn’t really want to talk to Stiles but it just slips out and he doesn’t know how to take it back.

“Oh,” Stiles seems surprised at his quick agreement but then recovers and gives him a tentative smile. “Okay, um, can you come over today?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes searching.

“Okay,” Derek agrees again.

“Oh, okay, great!” Stiles looks slightly nervous around the edges and Derek wonders what he’s gotten himself into.

*

The ride to Stiles’ house is quiet. Stiles reaches for the radio once or twice but then apparently changes his mind halfway there and moves his hand back to the steering wheel. Derek presses his head against the window and tries to stop his heart from beating so fast.

*

“Okay, um, could you maybe close your eyes?” Stiles asks, stopping Derek with a hand on his arm just as he’s about to step into the hall. Derek stares but complies, feeling slightly uneasy. His stomach feels like it wants to throw up all its contents on the Stilinski’s carpeting.

“Okay.” Derek feels a hand slip in his and pull him along. He tries to focus more on his feet and the fact that he’s walking blind than on Stiles’ warm hand. It doesn’t work.

“You can open your eyes now,” Stiles says, sounding nervous. Derek blinks.

They’re in the kitchen and there’s paper everywhere. Tacked up on walls, pinned to the fridge with magnets, taped to chairs and spread out on the table – it’s all loose leaf paper. The one Stiles uses for his plans.

“Um, what’s this?” Derek feels slightly sick.

“Plans,” Stiles tells him, tapping his fingers against the counter behind him and looking anxious. “Our plans,” he adds, pulling away one sheet of paper to hand to Derek. Derek takes it speechlessly and looks down at it to see a highly detailed plan for what looks like the perfect date. In red pen on the top, in Stiles’ scribbly handwriting, it says DATE – Delightfully and Tremendously Excited.

Derek looks up in shock, his mouth falling open. Stiles looks back at him with expectant eyes.

“But, Danny?” Derek asks stupidly, feeling confused. He doesn’t have muscles and he’s not adorable. Is he?

“Danny?” Stiles repeats, frowning. “What about him?”

“He has muscles and he’s adorable,” Derek says.

“Um, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles says.

“When you first told me you liked a guy, you said he was adorable and he had muscles and he wore sweaters,” Derek pleats the sheet of paper in his hand without thinking about it, watching as realization finally dawns on Stiles’ face.

“I was talking about you, idiot!” Stiles laughs. Derek stares.

“But I’m not adorable –“

“Are you kidding me? That thing you do with your glasses, when you push them up your nose? I could watch you do that all day.”

“But I don’t have muscles!”

“Have you ever even seen yourself in the mirror?” Stiles asks incredulously. “You have the cutest little muscles ever.”

Derek splutters. “And the sweaters –?”

“You’re wearing one right now!” Stiles points at his chest, laughing. “Derek, seriously –“

“This isn’t a red sweater! It’s burgundy! It’s nothing like red!”

Stiles bends over laughing, one hand reaching out to catch Derek’s arm. “This isn’t funny!” Derek tells him.

“You’re so cute. I really feel like leaning over and kissing you right now,” Stiles giggles, straightening up. They both fall silent. Stiles is closer than he was when he was drumming his fingers against the counter and Derek’s heart feels like it’s now migrated to his throat.

“Can I?” Stiles breathes, leaning forward, his eyes wide and his lips parted.

“Can you -?” Derek trails off, trying to push his heart back into its right place.

“Kiss you?” Stiles completes his question, his palm landing on the curve of Derek’s cheek, making his breath hitch. “Because I really really want to, but I won’t if you’re not okay with it.”

Derek swallows. “I’m okay with it.”

Stiles smiles, his fingertips brushing Derek’s hair and ear. He leans in slowly, as if he’s approaching a scared deer, and it feels like ages before his lips land on Derek’s. It feels like fire. Like every nerve in his body has suddenly woken up. Derek’s eyes flutter shut and he makes a small sound.

“Not okay?” Stiles pulls back as if scalded, looking anxious. Derek tries to regulate his breathing as he shakes his head.

“Too okay,” he says, looping his arm hesitantly around Stiles’ waist and pulling him in.

“Oh,” Stiles says before they’re kissing again, this time Stiles opening his mouth very softly to deepen the kiss. It feels so right Derek wonders why they took so long to get there.

“So,” Stiles grins as they pull back, arms still around each other. “I made all these plans.”

Derek smiles as he looks around the papered kitchen. “They’re all for me?” he asks, his heart swelling with something he can only describe as love.

“Each and every one,” Stiles replies.

“I can’t wait,” Derek turns back to look at Stiles, still smiling. He just can’t stop smiling.

“Me neither,” Stiles says, leaning in for another kiss. Derek smiles against his lips too and closes his eyes. He was right. All they’d needed was some time. And a few acronym riddled plans.

 


End file.
